


Kill Karen Page - Part 9 - Answers

by KastleInTheSky



Series: Kill Karen Page [9]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 02, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KastleInTheSky/pseuds/KastleInTheSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More and more seems to be wrong with the Page household. A drunken night allows Karen and Frank to fully realize their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kill Karen Page - Part 9 - Answers

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god <3  
> My favorite chapter to write thus far.  
> For anyone's reference, this song that plays later in the chapter (wink wink) is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GnDtxiNwDS8
> 
> Enjoy! Part 10 coming soon! Thanks again for reading!  
> \- KITS

Karen had awoken from her nap some time way into the afternoon. She slept tucked tightly in the twin bed of her childhood laying on her side facing away from the sun beaming through the curtains. She rolled over to check the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 2:45; she’d been sleeping for more than four hours, a much needed, dreamless sleep. She gazed up at the dream catcher above the bed, reaching up to fiddle the dangling feathers and beads between her fingers, saying a quick thank you. Karen rolled into a sitting position, stretching her good shoulder. She knew her mother would be home from work soon, so she rose quickly to look fully alive when that happened. Karen rotated the bad shoulder, which was still in pain. They would have to have things to redress it with in the bathroom, she was sure. 

Karen stepped towards the window, moving aside the fabric curtains to look out onto the field. It was breezy outside, and the weeds and wisps of wildflowers swayed back and forth peacefully in the wind. It was pretty, Frank was right. She leaned into the window, her forehead pressed up to the warm glass. She could see herself and Kevin as children running around the field, riding the horses, feeding them sugar cubes. Karen used to feed them too many, in fact. She’d figured they liked them the best; she would’ve if she were a horse. Kevin loved the horses far more than her, though. He went out to them every day, fed them, brushed them. One time Karen even heard him singing to them. They buried Kevin in a small dug-out plot on the edge of the field, next to their pasture. 

Karen caught sight of a tall shadow slinking through the woods just off the field. She squinted tightly to see Frank coming in through the trees closing in on the house. He was upset about something. Maybe not upset, but even angry, disturbed, confused, all of that. He had his hands squished into fists at his sides as he walked. Regardless of his expression, Karen smiled sadly at him. He would’ve liked growing up here, she thought again. Karen walked out of her room and passed Irina, who was sitting in the living room napping herself, snoring loudly, with the television on. She opened the front door and entered the screened porch, sitting down on a wicker chair, and waited for Frank to approach. When he did, he was certainly unhappy, as Karen had thought. He whipped open the front door, charged up to Karen, and squatted down in front of her, leering at her with his wild eyes and his sunken-in lip.  
“Can you come with me? Some shit out there you need to see,” he whispered angrily. Karen was unsure what he could be talking about. He may have found Kevin’s plot, Karen thought, though she was unsure as to why’d he would be angry about that.  
"What's wrong?" she asked.  
"Just follow me," Frank hissed. This is the first time ever that Karen had heard any uncertainty, even fear, in Frank’s voice, and without further question she rose from her seat and allowed Frank to walk her through the field and into the woods. On the way, they did pass Kevin’s plot. It was looking a little dirty, in fact. Her mother usually dusted it in the warm months and left flowers. There was nothing.  
“Not this?” Karen asked, pointing towards the stone.  
“Nothing like this,” Frank rasped. They moved through the trees about a hundred meters.  
“You came out all this way?” Karen asked. Frank didn’t respond. Finally, he lunged his arm out in front of her stopping her, his forearm pressed warmly across her stomach.  
“There,” Frank said. Karen looked around and at first couldn’t tell suspicious looking twigs and rocks from not suspicious looking twigs and rocks. Then, she noticed them. About twenty feet from where they were stopped there were dozens upon dozens of long, barren, dug-up mounds of dirt. They were of varying widths and unevenly spaced out.  
Though Karen was afraid she knew the answer, she asked, "What do you think these are?" 

Frank paced over towards the plots, keeping lookout for anywhere who could be watching them. He stopped next to one mound and pointed. There, jutting out ever so slightly, was unmistakably a small tuft of hair, though not human hair, Karen thought. She bent down to take a closer look, The hair was dark and incredibly coarse. Karen took both hands and began pushing away the dirt near the hair. Frank quickly knelt beside her, grabbing Karen at the wrist.  
"Whoa, whoa, hey," he yelled. "What the hell are you doing?"  
"Shh," she hissed back, pulling her arm away from him. She dug, scraping her nails into the ground in all different directions, until finally, she scratched something hard, something metal. Karen crab-walked over to the object, brushing the last bits of dirt away before the object was visible. It was a horseshoe, and it was undeniably still attached to a horse's foot. At least this one mound she knelt besides was a grave. Karen tried to remain calm and rationalize this as she stood back up.  
"I guess... I guess the horses died..." she whimpered.  
Frank stood up also, his face right besides her. His heated, rapid breaths were blowing right into her ear.  
"Did you have forty horses?" he asked. Looking around, there could have easily been that many dug-in plots beside them. Karen bones felt frozen over, and goose bumps covered every inch of her. She rushed away from the mounds, Frank quickly following her.  
"What the hell is out here, Karen?" Frank yelled.  
"I don't know," Karen quipped, her eyes darting everywhere, herself now wary of being watched.  
"Isn't this your land? Who the hell could'a dug all that shit up?"  
"I don't KNOW, Frank!" Karen yelled as she whipped around to him. Frank charged towards her slightly, but the two were interrupted by the sound of a car door slamming in the distance. Karen darted her head towards the house.  
“Shit,” she said. “That must be Mom, c’mon.” The two raced out of the woods and back into the open clearing, where they could indeed see Penelope Page standing by her Oldsmobile, apparently arguing with Irina outside. Karen’s gasped when she saw her. Not her too, she thought. Her mother looked to be in worse shape then her father; she was absolutely skeletal, appearing to have lost at least twenty pounds since Karen had last seen her, and she was very slender to begin with. Her eyes were sunken back in their sockets, and her hair had turned from an endearing salt and pepper grey to a sickly yellow color. Penelope caught sight of them in the field approaching, and her expression became more awkward. She offered them a small wave, and continued to talk harshly at Irina.

By time Karen and Frank approached the house, everything seemed to be fine. Penelope jogged a few meters to Karen to catch her in a weak hug.  
“Karen, sweetheart,” her mother cooed as she wrapped her bones around her.  
“It’s good to see you, dear. How come you didn’t call? I didn’t have anything prepared for you! There are barely any groceries in the fridge!”  
“Yeah,” Karen said with another nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, Mom. It was… a little, uh, a little spur of the moment. Mom, this is Frank. Frank is a friend from the city!” Again, Karen stepped aside to allow Frank to crush her mother’s hand with a shake.  
“Ma’am,” he greeted.  
“Nice to meet you,” Penelope replied unenthusiastically. She turned quickly to enter the porch, and Karen galloped behind her.  
“Hey, we were just out by Kevin’s stone. It looks pretty dingy, is anybody going out there to clean it?”  
Penelope spun around, glaring at Karen. “Well, if it means so much to you, why don’t you clean it yourself!” she blared.  
Karen halted abruptly, stunned by this outburst of apparent detest.  
“Mom!” she yelled, disgusted. With that, her mother’s caustic expression fell, realizing what she’d said, and she rubbed at her forehead.  
“I’m, I’m sorry, Karen,” Penelope sighed. “It was a tough day. Billy Harris’ father came again in the middle of the day to try to pick him up. Eileen got full custody, but he’ll still barge in from time to time asking to see him. Had to call the security guard this time.” She dropped her hands to her hips. “I didn’t mean that.”  
Karen nodded. “It’s okay,” she said. She felt Frank arrest behind her, and upon looking back at his face, Karen could see he thought something nefarious was afoot. He was biting at his mouth again, snorting hot air out of his nose like a boar. He spoke –  
“Do you have bathroom I could use quick, ma’am?” he asked. He held up his left hand, showing them a long thin cut on the back of it that Karen hadn’t noticed before.  
“Think I might have scraped myself on somethin’ back there,” he added dryly.  
“Yes, yes of course,” Penelope answered, a minor dazed look on her face. She pointed inside the house. “There’s bandages and alcohol in the medicine cabinet, help yourself.” Frank trudged passed them and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Penelope turned to Karen, looking skeptical.  
“You’ve been here for how long and he didn’t see that the bathroom was next to the guest room?” she asked.  
“Mother…” said Karen harshly. She approached her mother intensely and placed her hand upon Penelope’s emaciated shoulder.  
“Is everything okay here?” Karen asked. “You… with all due respect, Mom, you don’t look so good. Are you okay? You’re not getting sick too, are you? I…” She pointed back towards the field. “I saw the horses were gone. You loved those things, Mom. What happened to them? If things are getting bad and you can’t do these kinds of things around the house anymore, I wish you would’ve called me. There are great doctor’s in New York, and they can…”  
“Oh, don’t be silly, Karen,” her mother chastised. “Everything is fine, I’m fine! I told you, just getting very stressed at work, that’s all. Beside’s your father’s not getting any better, and…”  
“That’s what I’m saying!” Karen yelled. “Maybe we can take Dad into the city and get him checked out at a good hospital!”  
“Absolutely not, Karen” Penelope argued. “The last thing your father needs is a change of scenery, especially if you want t bring him to a colossal dump like that. Oh, with all that, that crime and, monsters falling from the sky. That’s no good for him Karen, you know that. He needs to stay here, so he can relax. Now, please, let’s come off that.” Penelope stepped out of Karen’s grasp and onto the porch.  
“I think for dinner I’ll just have to whip up some spaghetti, that’s all I have,” she said as she walked. “Oh, and Karen…” Her mother looked back at her. “Don’t forget what they thought you when the school did etiquette classes.”  
“What’s that?” Karen asked, a question that’s answer honestly alluded her.  
Her mother’s expression was blank. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” She threw open the door and entered the home. Karen was left bewildered outside on the grass. What did that mean? What question had she…  
“I saw the horses were gone… What happened to them?”  
Karen shivered.  
* * *  
Dinnertime went on about as well as the rest of the day had. Irina sat babbling the entire time about whatever she could and she fed Karen’s father spaghetti mashed with a fork. Karen’s mother twirled her own utensils languidly in between her fingers and she was bored by Irina’s chatter. Frank hadn’t touched his food either; instead he spent his time at the table scowling at everyone. He’d elected to take his hat off at the dinner table, and surprisingly no one had mentioned the marks on his face. Karen’s main focus was that they’d positioned her father across from her, and as Irina was feeding him, coaxing him to swallow, and wiping food from his chin, his gaze never left Karen. He stared at her through the entire meal, vacant and purposeful.  
“Sometimes, he is not so good with listening,” Irina said to the table. “I think sometimes he does it because he is no used to being the patient. He is used to taking care instead of me taking care of him,” she laughed.  
“Was he a doctor?” Frank asked sourly.  
“Best in the state,” Penelope added, “’til he got sick.”  
“What kind of doctor?” asked Frank. His mistrustful attention was focused entirely to Penelope.  
“Surgeon.” Penelope challenged him back. “He was a brain surgeon. Performed close to 500 surgeries during a twenty-year career. Irina’s probably right. He doesn’t like being babied, never did. He was the bread-winner, he was the man of the house. This is probably all very foreign to him.”  
“Brain surgeon…” Frank chucked slightly as he nodded his head. “Guess he wasn’t much for medication?”  
Penelope leered at him. “What do you mean?”  
“Oh, nothin’, it’s just that when I was in your medicine cabinet lookin’ for somethin’ to clean my hand with, I didn’t see many pill bottles. Just some kinda… potassium iodine, somethin’. Figured it may be some of that holistic healing shit.”  
“We don’t swear at the dinner table,” Penelope hissed. “We keep his medication in the bedroom with us.”

Karen gave a swift sideways kick to Frank, one, for snooping, two, for whistle-blowing during dinner. She did not recall seeing any pill bottles in her parent’s bedroom while she was up there earlier. She looked up at her father, still staring right at her, albeit more excessively now somehow. Irina attempted to feed him, but he wouldn’t open his mouth, no matter how many times she asked. His face was fixed on Karen. Karen attempted to focus on her own eating, twirling the spaghetti, lifting it into her mouth, but the whole while she could feel her father’s eyes burrowing into her. She looked up at him one last time, and on that instance his face seemed to soften. He opened his mouth and allowed Irina to insert the mashed spaghetti. He closed his lips, and immediately began making choking sounds.  
“Alright, that’s enough,” Karen’s mother called as she leapt out of her chair and over to Karen’s father, rapping him on the back as his choking subsided.  
“Irina, why don’t you clean up out here while I get him upstairs,” she demanded. Penelope looked surprisingly strong for her new size as she lifted her husband out of his chair and out of sight. Karen got up as well, attempting to grab a few dishes and help Irina.  
“No, no,” Irina scolded. “I will do. You are guests here today, you can relax.”  
Karen was disheartened admittedly because she did in fact feel like a stranger in her own home today. He heaved heavily, looking over at Frank who himself had stood up from the table. Irina gathered the dishes and moved them into the kitchen, busily hummed and cleaning. Frank peered over to Karen, the two of them standing there clueless.  
“You wanna go outside,” he rather commanded than asked. Karen followed him outside onto the porch, tightly shutting the front door behind them.  
“What the hell was that?” she quietly quipped at Frank.  
“Exactly what it sounded like,” Frank responded. “Somethin’ ain’t right out here Karen, and you know it. You got a mass grave right on your property.”  
“So you think it has something to do with my sick parents?!”  
“I’m just callin’ this shit like I see it. Somethin’ ain’t right.” Frank walked out of the screen door, Karen following quickly behind him. The pair stopped and looked out at the field in the direction of the mysterious plots. Karen knew something was wrong, but something inside of her couldn’t imagine it possibly having to do with her two feeble parents.  
“What about the nurse?” Frank asked. “What’s her story?”  
“She came over here from Europe in the 80’s. You see the way she is, Frank. She couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a horse.”  
“I don’t think we should sleep here tonight,” Frank said abruptly.  
“No, Frank,” Karen rebuked. “That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing that’s gonna hurt us out here.”  
“Somethin’ killed whatever’s out there, Karen.”  
Karen heaved her chest heavily. There was nowhere else for them to go without her parents getting suspicious of their motives. She had one other idea.  
“If you want,” she started, as she pointed over to the big, red barn on the Page’s. “We could stay in there, but that’s as far as I’m going. I get why you’re worried, Frank, but there’s really no need to be this paranoid.”  
Frank grit his teeth at her. “Fine,” he said.  
* * *  
The Page barn was surprisingly more comfortable than one would expect of a large building filled with farming tools. There were still plenty of haystacks and throw blankets around from the horses, and it was well lit, with about a dozen hanging Edison bulb fixtures. Sometimes, when she younger and home for the summer, when the evenings were crisp, Karen would sneak liquor out to the barn and drink while she read a book. She’d even fall asleep there sometime. Frank crept around the barn, flattening hay under his boots, checking the place out.  
“Nothing’s out here,” Karen called to him and grabbed the blankets from a wooden chest and began making them a cot upon the hay. Frank grunted back and paced over to assist her. As Karen returned to the chest for some more blankets, something rustled underneath them. Karen picked up the last blankets to see an old bottle of Johnny Walker lying underneath. Karen let out a belly laugh as she thought back to the days of sneaking out again. She must’ve hidden this one so her parents couldn’t find it.  
“What’s so funny?” Frank asked as he walked over. Karen held up the bottle for him.  
“Care for a nightcap?” she asked, half joking. Karen was certain Frank would be in too serious a mood, but she had come up here to blow off a little steam and regroup, hadn’t she?  
“You think that’s a good idea?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow to her. “You think this is a good time?”  
“Frank, nothing bad is going to happen,” Karen complained. “You said it yourself, I’m here to relax, right? You think it’d be okay if I just took the edge off a little? Huh, sergeant?” She put the bottle down in the chest again. If it made Frank uncomfortable, than she supposed…  
“Was that…” Frank began. “… that a Blue Label?” Karen turned to him, smirking.  
* * *  
“So this idiot comes barrelin’ outta the barrack, and this guy’s built like a brick shit house. He comes runnin’ up to us, knocks one of my buddies clean over on in his ass, runs outside, FACE PLANTS onto the ground…”  
Karen drunkly giggled at Frank’s story, mostly because it was not entertaining. “I think that’s one of those you had to be there for,” she chuckled.  
“Yeah,” Frank laughed, taking another swig of scotch. “Yeah, maybe.” They’d been taking turns sipping from the bottle and swapping stories, Karen’s mostly from growing up in Vermont and Frank’s from his time in the military. Karen had found an old cassette player that still worked, and she’d put on and old tape with a mix of oldies music on it.  
“It sounds like you guys had fun there sometimes. Really,” Karen smiled.  
“Yeah. Wan’t all that bad some of the time. They were good guys, good people.”  
“How did,” Karen hiccupped, herself taking her next sip. “How did you get involved in the military anyway?”  
“Aah, you know. Necessity, I guess. I was workin’ all kinds of odd jobs before. Then I met Maria, got married. She got… she got pregnant not long after, that’s when. That’s when I decided to enlist. Make sure I could, could give ‘em somethin’ better.” He took another swig.  
“That’s really brave of you, Frank,” Karen said. “Really. Not a lot of people are cut out for that life. Takes somebody really strong, somebody really brave.”  
“Or somebody really stupid,” Frank huffed.  
“What have you,” Karen stated, “what have you been doing? Y’know… after the, uh… after the Blacksmith?”  
Frank smirked, pushing out a weak laugh. “Only thing I could do I guess. Move on.”  
“What do you mean?” Karen asked, her head cocked. Although she brought it up, it was still a sensitive subject for her.  
“I wanted to kill the man who killed my family, my kids. I did that. They got their justice. There’s nothin’ else I can do now. Can’t harp on it. It’s done, it’s taken care of. I took care of it,” he mumbled, pausing now as if searching for the right words. “Funny thing, it is. Havin’ all this… this hate, this, this rage inside. If I could’a I would’a pulled that bastards throat out…” Karen winced. Frank noticed, shifting a little, and continued. “And to have that be gone now, it’s… it’s just funny, that’s all.”

Karen nodded wordlessly. She held the bottle of scotch in both hands, toying at the cap with her fingers, trying not to make too much eye contact with Frank. If he was handsome before this, he was most certainly handsome now with the bottle of scotch in her hands.  
“What’d you wanna be when you grew up?” Frank asked, rather randomly. Karen had to look up at him after that. He was admiring her (yes, that was the word, Karen thought), leaning back on his hands, his feet outstretched before him crossed at the ankles. He was smirking at her with a blushing glow in his face.  
“Pretty sure little girls from Vermont don’t dream of comin’ to the big city to be receptionists their whole lives.”  
Karen giggled. “That’s... that’s right,” she said. “I, uh… I don’t know, really. I wanted to be a lot of things when I was a kid. Astronaut, zoologist, veterinarian, you name it, all that kind of stuff. I think… I think the only thing I really knew is that I wanted to be something… something really great, y’know? I thought I had it in me to make a difference in the world, as cheesy as that sounds. To help people. I guess I came to Hell’s Kitchen thinking that, if I wanted to be good at something, to really excel and be… spectacular, than New York would be the place to do it.” Karen laughed at herself. “I guess it sounds silly, but…”  
“Nah, nah that doesn’t sound stupid,” Frank explained. “That’s brave, too.”  
Karen softened her eyes, her lips curling up. “Yeah?” she asked, blushing.  
“Hell yeah,” Frank affirmed. “Left this place, not knowin’ anybody, startin’ over like that…” He smiled. “That’s pretty brave to if you ask me.”

Just then, the cassette player changed tracks to a song that Karen could not contain her excitement over. She howled with laughter, swinging her head back, all as Frank choked on his own laughter at the sight of her.  
“This was one of my favorite songs growing up,” she gasped.  
“I never pinned you for the oldies type,” Frank confessed. “I’m impressed.” Karen continued to spill her laughter throughout the barn.  
“Jeez,” Frank said. “What, was this another one of your little dancing songs?”  
Karen rolled her legs under her and stood, extending her flushed hand in Frank’s direction. “Would you like to find out?”  
Frank’s face dropped, and he stared at Karen. He looked almost fearful.  
“You’re not serious…” he said. “Nah, nah I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  
“Oh come on, Frank!” Karen yelled. “One dance won’t kill ya’, ya’ big chicken!”  
Frank gave her the same apprehensive glance, but he raised his hand to clasp hers as he pushed himself off the hay.  
“I’m not really good at this stuff…” he grumbled at her.  
“Then don’t think about it,” Karen advised. She walked him out under one of the Edison bulbs, throwing her one hand over Frank’s shoulder and interlacing her fingers with those of Frank’s opposite hand. Frank tentatively reached his open hand to Karen’s waist, and it felt like a brick rested on her.  
“Relax, Frank,” Karen giggled. “It’s just a dance.” She felt Frank’s hand slowly soften, his fingers stretching over her more delicately as they began to sway to the music.  
“Love… is a many-splendored thing… It’s the April rose, that only grows, in the early spring…”  
Karen rested her head upon Frank’s left breast. The warm cotton of his shirt felt like an inferno against her already flushed cheek. She could hear his heart racing underneath her.  
“Love is nature’s way of giving, a reason to be living, the golden crown that makes a man a king…”  
They danced back and forth, Frank’s hand glossy and sweaty on top of hers.  
“Relax,” she whispered to him.  
“Once on a high and windy hill, in the morning mist, two lovers kissed, and the world stood still…”  
Karen remembered last night, in Frank’s apartment, the veracity with which she kissed him and with which he kissed in return. She couldn’t have been making this up, regardless of his apparent willingness to drop what had happened. This was palpable.  
“Then your fingers touched my silent heart and taught it, how to sing. Yes, true love’s a many-splendored thing…”  
Karen gazed up at Frank. The expression on his mouth was one of pain, his lips and teeth twisted around each other, but his eyes were open and clear. They burned into her as the music continued.  
“Once on a high and windy hill, in the morning mist, two lovers kissed, and the world stood still…”  
“Karen…” he whispered, his voice deep and gravelly, his lips moving only slightly with the word.  
“Frank…” Karen answered. She smiled on at him, the Edison bulb above them casting a shadow upon his face that covered all the marks and bruises. Her hand grazed through the hair on the back of his head.  
“Then your fingers touched my silent heart and taught it how to sing. Yes, true love’s a many-splendored thing.”

Frank leaned into Karen as the music faded, kissing her again, though this time, he was gentle. His lips glided over hers and Karen brought the hand that was tangled with Frank’s up to meet her other hand in his hair. Karen’s tongue slid over Frank’s as he pressed into her more deeply, his hands searching every inch of her as he did. Karen let out a small cry of ecstasy as he moved his mouth downward to her neck, sucking on it, scarping his teeth against her.  
“Karen…” he whispered again, his hot breathe beating off of her neck. She pulled him over to the blankets they’d set up, allowing his full weight to fall upon her as his mouth found hers again. He reached his rough hands up underneath her shirt, tracing his fingers on her skin, over her breasts. He pulled her shirt over her head and removed her bra, kissing her all over her chest. He rose and removed his own shirt, and Karen caressed every muscle, outlining every scar with her fingertips. She lifted herself up, pressing against Frank, and kissed him deeply, their bare chests binding together as their lips met again. Karen could hear the sound of Frank sliding his zipper down, and everything in her flashed hot and cold simultaneously. She hadn’t done this in so long, she thought. Frank pulled his jeans down, his belt buckle clinking as it fell. He leaned Karen onto her back again and pulled off her pants as well, throwing them blindly on the hay. He kissed the inside of her legs, sucking and biting spot after spot, and Karen threw her head back, mouth open in a voiceless scream. Frank lifted his head and moved his body over hers, pressing his warmth on top of her, and then inside of her. The two rocked back and forth, Frank grunting strongly in Karen’s ear. Karen ran her fingers all over Frank’s back, sinking her nails into her when he hit the perfect spots. He grabbed Karen by the shoulders, rolling them both over so that Karen was on top of him. She rocked back and forth as he fondled her. His hands pressed up against her breasts, moving up to the curve of her neck and her cheeks, and he slid one thumb to gently hook into the corner of her mouth as she moaned. Frank quivered, his body pulsing tightly, and he let out a primal groan, finishing. With a few more motions, Karen did the same. They sat there in the wake of it all, Karen flinging her body on top of Frank, their sweat mixing as they panted. With only a small kiss from Frank of her forehead, Karen found herself falling asleep.  
* * *  
Karen awoke, with a buffering headache and the intense need to pee. She looked around, trying to regain her bearings. Frank was still beneath her, naked, and his snoring echoed throughout the barn. She blushed at him, still in shock over what had happened, but very happy it had. She pressed herself up and groped around her clothes, eventually finding them and dressing. She threw on her shoes and walked outside, up to the house, onto the porch, and unlocked the front door. All seemed fine inside. The nightlight in the kitchen was on so Karen could see where she was going. She walked into the bathroom, did what she came to do, washed up, and walked out again.

As Karen stepped outside the bathroom, however, something was different. Karen could hear a faint humming noise from inside the house somewhere. It seemed to be coming from the basement, from up under the floorboards. Fearing it could be a generator problem or a boiler problem, Karen walked to the back mudroom where the basement door was, opened it, and descended the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she saw that in the very left corner of the basement, in a room that was sectioned off by opaque glass paneling, formerly her father’s study, the light was on. Karen squinted to see if anyone was there, but she couldn’t tell. She stepped towards the room, the humming getting louder, yet still she couldn’t see through the glass. The door was ajar, and she pushed it open. Karen’s mouth opened wide in fear as she looked at… some sort of machine? An IV? She saw tubes of some unidentifiable liquid surging through from a large machine. She followed the tubes, and off in the corner of the room, she saw that the tubes were being pumped into the small skeletal frame of her mother, bolted down in a metal chair.  
“Oh my god, Mom!” Karen shouted as she began to charge. “Mom, what happened?!” 

Before she could go far, though, two long, skeletal hands reached out from behind her and pressed firmly upon her shoulders. Karen was frozen in fear, as her father whispered to her.  
“Don’t worry sweatheart,” he said. She felt the breathe in her ear, and the hair on her neck was starched straight. This wasn’t a dream.  
“Everything’s going to be alright.”


End file.
